


Lightning

by frozenpapers



Category: Frozen (2013), Hans x Elsa, Helsa - Fandom, Iceburns - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1901454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenpapers/pseuds/frozenpapers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she rolled out of bed in the morning, she rolled out with his heart as well. And with the emptiness that was burning inside his chest, he knew it was a fate worse than death.</p><p>"We share a bed together, not a life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enslavement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible  
> And when I leave, you will finally understand why hurricanes are named after people."

Sweat coated both of their bodies, thick clammy sweat profusely dribbling between flesh. Skin against skin, they moved against each other as their voices echoed in the empty halls, as their moans and their oaths filled the night. The moon’s light slanted in the farthest corner of the room, revealing the clothes that were carelessly torn from each other. With no regrets she met his mouth with hers, the same passion, the same heat, muffling her own cries and her own profanities.

She collapsed against his rigid body, with no less than a rational thought in her mind. Weak, sated, libidinous, and _triumphant_ , she let herself swirl into the embers of sleep.

He buried his face into the messy pile of her hair with a sigh as his mind swirled, _swirled_ , and **swirled**. The aftermath was _eccentric_ as usual, knowing that he would never understand what his heart whispered and what the voices in his mind screamed. And often he would try to distract himself with the little things that surrounded them. He forced himself to listen to the crickets he never paid attention to; to the crickets that was always a nuisance to him. He’d do anything to tone down the voices that answered his questions. _Anything._

And when the moon sunk and morning came, he felt his eyes flicker with weariness. He then gave in, thinking it was better to sink into oblivion than to deal with reality.

_It always was._

And when the faint sunlight danced on her pale face, she finally woke from her slumber. With a sigh, she rolled out of bed, taking the thin sheets with her. An all too well pattern, she supposed as she slipped on her dress with ease and walked out of the room with his heart.

 _It was a fate_ worse _than_ **death.**


	2. The Flames of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She only finds her love on a downtown score.  
> Consumption makes her stronger  
> She's the sweetest anaconda."

She entered the room like a graceful goddess, that same placid smile plastered on her face. Her hair fell like a waterfall behind her back, revealing the face of a  _vixen_  who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. Her lips twitched in excitement as she found him where he always was. She sauntered slowly, her eyes glistening with lust as she licked her poisonous cherry lips.

His green eyes never left her figure, the same want exchanged. He tried his best to look  _uninterested_ , but by the way his hands were sweating, and the quill slipping a few slants gave him away. He could feel his cheeks heat as the same bloody  _feeling_  fermented deep in his stomach, the bulge in his pants growing, embarrassing himself further. The beads of sweat that formed just below his hairline made her smirk even wider as she raised a brow at him in humor. He swallowed –once,  _twice_ ,  **thrice**  – as he tried to avert his gaze from her hips to the letter he was writing for his mother.

 The heat in her stomach grew as she moaned in pleasure, situating herself on top of him, straddling him with her long lean legs. The way his jaw dropped amused her as she ran her fingers up and down his sideburns, relishing the force that was pressing hard on her core. She took him by the chin, moistening his dry lips for him. He trembled underneath her as he let go of the quill and placed both clammy hands on her hips.

Goosebumps rose as she continued to torture him with her every movement.  He found it impossible to breathe as he felt her cold fingers travel down from his face to his chest, from his chest to  _there_. He writhed in pleasure as another swallow came, as his breath hitched for the hundredth time. He shivered as he felt her fingers dance on his crotch, as he felt the  _electricity_  traveling through his dead nerves. An involuntary moan escaped his lips and he flushed at the way Elsa looked at him with such diversion.

“Do you like it when I touch you there? Do you like it when I kiss you here? I love how you tremble with every touch I give, with every rub I make. I love how your skin prickles when you feel that heat in you, when you feel it ravage your dignity.

I will devour your soul and punish you in the most satisfying way. I will fill your mind with the most sordid thoughts, will make you forget every woman you had before me; will make you wish the woman you will hold in your arms after me  _is_  me. I will make sure that I am the one that circles your mind through the course of the night and the blinding curse of daylight.

 Your heart is too pure. Let me stain it for you. I can see your control crumbling, and every wit you have gained scattering. You will only know one taste, and that is my heat. You will torture yourself finding the same taste you’ve sampled when I’m no longer in your arms, and no longer in your sight. You will love me, but I will  _never_  love you. You will give everything I want even if it would mean your downfall. I can see  _redemption_  in your eyes, but baby, there’s  **evil**  in me, there’s no need for a  _saint_  in these four walls. I will be your  _sweetest undoing_. And when all of this is over and a new chapter folds in, you’d be as broken as a mirror and as blank as a slate. You will find no beginnings, but only terrible endings written by such a  _terrible_  queen.”

Her lips curled as she brought his face to hers and took him to the searing flames of  _hell_.

 

_You will never find someone as good as me._


	3. Comply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Someone protect me from the one I love."_

“That would be all for today, ladies, gentlemen.” She smiled as she drummed her fingers slowly on the table, her smile sending shivers down his spine.

They stood and smiled at her in correspondence before leaving the room with babbles mainly about politics and gossip. Her blue eyes cut through his like shards of ice as he realized that they were both alone in a dark room. He averted his gaze to avoid that wanton feeling building up in his chest, roiling towards the pit of his stomach to his toes. He swallowed as he watched the sun sink lowly down its chamber. He prayed to the Almighty God who was watching over them now, asking for some divine intervention. He couldn’t bear to lose more than what he had already lost.

And as if on cue, as if his prayers had been answered just like that, Gerda turned up. “Your Majesty,” she apprehended with a smile as her tired brown eyes focused on the young queen. “Supper is ready.”

The tight knots in his chest loosened as air began to circulate again properly. He didn’t know he was holding his breath _that_ long. He tried not to seem satisfied as he wiped the sweat off of his hands on his pants.

“I have work to catch up with. Would you mind bringing both of our meals in my study at around – say” – she glanced at the grandfather clock – “Nine?” She smiled warmly at the loyal handmaid as she folded her hands on her lap.

Hans bit his lip in disappointment as he squeezed his eyes shut. _He had no choice_. But of course, who was he to ask God such a request? After all, he was a sinner by _default_.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Gerda smiled warmly. “I just hope you wouldn’t overwork yourself. Anyway, have a pleasant night.” She curtsied then left the floor to Elsa.

She gracefully stood up from her seat as the same smirk splayed across her perfectly sculptured face, accenting cherry red lips. “It looks like we have the room to ourselves, darling.” She slurred as walked towards him, her hips swaying dramatically.

He swallowed as he turned to look at her, the beads of sweat giving him away. No answer came out from him as she lifted his chin with her pointer finger, ordering him to stand up. And when he did what he was told, he found himself slammed against the wall, his hands on Elsa’s breasts, his eyes on her toxic blue eyes.

She smirked as she leaned closer to his ear, pushing his hands to her chest and whispered, “ _Fuck me_ , Westerguard.”

He had no choice but to _comply_.


	4. Useful

_A hundred and four days before._

He was huddled in the corners of the besmirched cell, the darkness swallowing him completely. His vague green eyes were focused on the bars that kept him tamed inside, had kept him confined for almost a year and a half as he listened to the distant rattles and guffaws the guards on post usually made. They were clangorous – _very_ to be precise, but it didn’t bother him as they served as his only source of _entertainment_ and political news – albeit it was often _opinionated_. His wrists throbbed, but likewise he wouldn’t ponder on it _too_ much as – to his belief – the pain had reminded him often that he was _still_ alive despite the current circumstances. And he had to be thankful that God had given him a chance to repent and reflect on what he had done during Arendelle’s unforgettable downfall. He had seen the light – or so to speak – in the darkness casted by his _envy_ and _ill-boding_. He had no one to blame but himself for conveying such a plan to lead both sisters to their own demise. Because if he had chosen right, if he had enough _sense_ , he wouldn’t have been spending his entire life in a cold scuffed cell. The plot was not foolish. It was _he_ who had been foolish. He realized that when his father – with tears in his eyes and disappointment flashed in his tired old face – shook his head at him in court.

_But there was no turning back now, wasn’t there?_

There was a sudden silence that broke him off of his _resentment_ as he looked back at the bars, his ears perked up in curiosity. He clasped his hands together as he prayed for mercy, as he prayed that this was probably a _mistake_ and that he was not to be hanged for his crimes today. But his hopes and wishes were unlikely as he had known since then that this was to be his fate no matter if he liked it or _not_.

“You Majesty,”

He swallowed thickly at the title as sweat began to trickle profusely down his thick brows and sealed lips. He listened to the noise her heels made as his eyes followed the gleam of light that was slowly becoming more bright. He brought his gaze back to his hands as he refused to look at her. After all he had done to her, he refused to make her pity a murderer and refused to stain her _immaculate_ face with that look every _remorseful_ criminal ever gave to their prosecutors. He refused to sigh too as he feared it might cost him his own demise – albeit he deserved it more than anyone did. Tight-lipped, he waited for her to break the ice. _And she did_.

“It has been quite an eventful year, has it not?” She questioned as she stood just beside the sheet of wood he called a bed. She expected a snarky answer, but all she received was the silence she didn’t want to hear. “So tell me, what am I going to do with you?”

Again, silenced answered her question.

She refused to give into her ire as she forced herself to remain calm and collected, afraid that he would mock her because of her lack of _control_. “Ah, the silent treatment. How remarkable.” She muttered as she walked closer and closer to him until they were only a foot away from each other.

“It’s good to be queen, Hans.” She boasted as she stared down at him, her smile never fading. “It’s good to have power, to be seated at the throne you so wished to have.” She laughed, but the laugh wasn’t as humorless as he expected it to be.

She grabbed him by the chin, her cold fingers stinging his skin as she eyed him with the venom he knew she still had. “So tell me, shall I lead you to your death?”

The flash of sadness was quick in his eyes as he frowned and looked down at his feet.

She smirked as she pulled his face closer to hers. “But a criminal is a criminal, am I not right?” She taunted as she roughly released his chin and turned her back to his. “You could’ve been king, could’ve ruled Arendelle with me if you were _smart_ enough to manipulate me. You could’ve exploited Arendelle’s riches, could have had me _under_ you. But of course, all those would just remain _could haves_ as I was only the _preferable one_. Am I not right about this? If I’m not, do correct me. I’d be glad to hear you save your ass.” She sneered as she faced him with a smile that had sent his nerves fleeting in fear.

She walked back to him, the gentle smile on her face, the flash of victor in her eyes. “So what _can_ you do for me?” She asked as she placed her hand on his leg, running it up and down, down and up. “Perhaps you could be _useful_. If, you know what I _mean._ ”


	5. Fuck

_Marriage_

The vile in her throat crept like a snake as she paced in front of the fire, her eyes glowing like the flame, the anger and frustration perspicuous. She muttered curses as she dragged both of her hands drastically through her hair, the pins falling, her hair as free as the wind. She needn’t a man to run a country. She didn’t need _dependency_. She could run Arendelle with her eyes closed and it would still remain at the top, the most envied, and the kingdom with most power. Wasn’t that enough of a tale to tell your grandchildren when your skin shrivels like a prune? Of course to her council, it was definitely not enough. They wanted an heir, someone who knew what the queen knew, someone from the queen, and raised by the queen. They most definitely cannot have a _Princess Regnant_ when the queen dies, quote, unquote. And albeit it brought a heavy feeling to her chest, she had to admit that they were _right_.

But what could she _do_? She was not the one for hoarding thousands of children for Arendelle. She was not built for taking care of _nudnik_ infants that only knew how to babble, wail, and eat. She cannot afford the stress it would give her lest her powers would be out of her control again. The least she wanted was snow in the middle of July. Arendelle is _supposed_ to understand that. But of course, it cannot. And aside from the little saliva coated pests, she didn’t want a man interfering with her routine.

The door to her study clicked, stopping her from her tracks and waking her from her reverie. She tilted her head to the side to glare at the _intruder_ , but when her eyes landed on the red headed _beast_ , she dropped the scowl and smirked instead. She straightened her posture and folded her hands in front of her legs, her eyes glowing with the hint of anger and with the libidinous idea in her head.

“I heard about the _news_.” She had to frown at that, but instead of yelling at him for bringing such an _issue_ , she gestured for him to take the seat adjacent to her desk.

He obeyed without hesitation, his eyes still on her face, waiting for her to speak and elaborate the littlest of details he had garnered from the servants. But to his dismay she straddled him instead, her hands busy with his button and fly, her smile devious yet, undoubtedly alluring.

He could feel the concealed anger in her steady breaths as he did nothing to stop her from what she was doing. He didn’t have the strength to, but what he had – albeit it was such a disappointment – was the voice to tell her to _stop_. “You need to get this out, Your–”

But before he could finish regarding her title, he was shut up by the warmth of her mouth. She pulled away with a smirk, her breathing ragged as was his, and then frowned at the displeasure in his eyes. “Less talking, more _fucking_ ,”


	6. French

The consecutive weeks had drained all of the energy the queen had. Lately she had been occupied by pending treaties, council meetings, suitor dealing, and mountains of paperwork. And of course, likewise the past events – albeit none was as hectic as these weeks – it had taken a toll on her. The life in her eyes had been cold and dreadful, the bags under them hanging like intricate necklaces bartered from a sea merchant as the smile on her face was more like a grimace, highlighting the travail, becoming more perspicuous and defiant. The doors to her study were kept closed, only open between breaks that usually lasted for at least fifteen minutes, and quite as oft, it would be bathroom breaks rather than breakfast, lunch, or dinner. There was no time to spare for nonsense, and of course, it had worried her dear little sister who did nothing but pester her at these valuable times of queenly business. As a result, she had received sneers and grunts, and a snowstorm to keep her out. She had toyed over the idea of sending a fleet whenever her sister would barge in unannounced, but of course, she didn’t have the heart to do such violent and crude plots. She may be the queen of ice and snow, but she would never be _that_ **cold**.

Having her tray filled with political clutter meant that sex wasn’t on the table. And albeit she convinced herself she would be just fine without it for a week – or _four_ , the sexual frustration had added to her ire. Her mind had graced over the idea of abandoning all work and empty herself with an _indulgence_ as such as often as her hand missed a slant on her letters, but she had – with all the self-control she could garner – kept herself in place and had buried these libidinous ideas in the deepest and darkest corner of her mind. Keeping him around her was no help at all too as the sensations and the _needs_ clawed at her whenever she’d hear a grunt from him or whenever her eyes would flicker to his consternated face – by _accident_. But help he did with the paperwork – sorted and signed, restacked and filed, decked and sent to post. It relieved her, but not _completely_.

She sighed as she dragged a drastic hand through her hair, sending the pins falling on the floor, causing more clutter than there already was. She bit back a yawn as her vision became bleary. She knew the need all too well, but couldn’t spare at least a second to rest her eyes. She _believed_ she couldn’t afford the indulgence.

He flashed her a pitiful look when he was sure she couldn’t see him through the thick hair hovering over her face. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought of an idea that could take her mind elsewhere. He had to thank the mutual need as the idea came like _lightning_ to him, almost taking him aback, but pleasing him. All he needed was courage and confidence – and _smug_. He had little of all, but he told himself he could make do just for her. He placed the quill atop of the parchment, careful not to stain lest he would start over, and stood with a deep breath.

He smirked in effect as he cracked his knuckles to get her attention, knowing that gratuitous noise made her blood boil. And indeed he was right as he watched her bare her teeth and sneer at him with narrowed eyes like a slithering snake in a field. He suppressed the gleeful grin and strode – _swaggered_ to her desk, sending her over the edge of ire and into the flames of fury. He placed both hands on her desk and leaned close, close enough to have her scowling at him with frustration.

“I thought I could help.” He whispered with that rasp in his voice that had her digging her nails under her desk.

She had to conceal before the _damage_ was done. The flash of desire was there in her eyes but was as quick as a pebble plummeting into the water; and with that, she was back to being _cold_ and temperamental. “You could, yes.” The ice in her voice was perspicuous as her toes curled over the twinge of heat below her stomach. She was _hungry_ , but not for food. “You could brew me some tea. I’d love some Irish.” She said in that authoritarian tone she often used.

He only shook his head as he rounded on her desk like a vulture, settling behind her chair and pulling it backwards so he could have some decent space. It was idiosyncrasy she felt rather than fury as she waited for him with the little patience she had left. He walked back to her and pushed her skirt to her hips, kneeling in front of her with the intentions she wasn’t sure of. His hands ran through the silk that was her legs, reveling the automatic shiver vibrating through her body. His smirk grew as he watched her eyes change from light to a darker and more dangerous, and her cheeks ting in a deep scarlet. It pleased him as he separated her legs and rained them with kisses, his tongue dancing lasciviously on her skin, taking his precious time torturing her for the first time. With his free hand, he yanked the cloth separating his mouth from her centre like a piece of paper, gladdened when it broke without complications. He lowered his mouth and blew in _her_ as his hands traveled, up, _up_ , **up**. She wasn’t sure if the whimper was from her as she threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, oblivion taking over in an instant. Her breath hitched as she felt his hot breath on her, twisting and turning every knot in her stomach.

“Hans, _please_ …” She never whimpered, never allowed herself to, but it was too much, too overwhelming to handle as her nails bit the wood on her chair and her teeth gritted too hard it would almost break.

The whimper was enough to send him to the edge and enough to press his starving lips to her folds. She shrieked in surprise and pleasure as she felt his tongue in her, in and out, swirling and swirling, torturing her and pleasuring her at the same time. She curled her toes as the sensation rioted through her like a rabble, her breaths shortened, her mind a cloud.

He should have _spoken French_ between her legs before.


	7. Howls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna hears howls in various rooms of the Arendellian castle. Beasts? Monsters? She doesn't know.
> 
> **I probs lost my luster bc of the long hiatus. This is sort of shitty so I don't know if y'all will like it.**

There were these peculiar noises that sent needles through the spine of the naïve princess of Arendelle and haunted her through the course of her dreams at night. They were sounds that bounced up and down, right to left inside her mind, clouding her thoughts. There wasn’t good in them as they sounded like growls let out by beasts hiding under the antiquities – beasts that never get caught no matter what.

The sounds were too _primitive_ for her jejune mind that it had often pulled her into places she shouldn’t be going. She could hear the lust in them, and of course the _hunger_.

Each passionate howl sent her hair sprawling from its roots and her toes and legs to work, her curiosity again ahead of her, wanting to know what was really behind those ululates. She wanted to know what was so powerful behind them that she had managed to leave the drawing room to find the source.

A part of her wished for it to stop as soon as it reverberated through the castle walls, but a part of her wanted to know before it did. She didn’t know why she wanted to behold such knowledge as the sound had pushed her to the edge of her seat and prickled at the hairs on her skin.

Maybe it was because she had read too much of what the library had to offer that featured howls and grunts of beasts looming in every corner of a big home. She found it rational as she had often thought of the howls belonging to Mrs. Rochester, the vampire and mistress of the castle. And she, being too sucked in one of Bronte’s books, thought of herself as the eighteen year old governess who sought for answers that shouldn’t be found. But of course, just like Eyre, she belonged in the castle, and of course she had the right to know whether it was indeed Mrs. Rochester or just silly old broken windows.

_But,_

But what extravagant castle – one who still had living tenants – would have too many broken windows? No matter how remote the rooms were, it was without doubt that Gerda might have sent thousands of chambermaids to fix those damned windows. She thought of telling the castle guards to search every nook and cranny of the castle, but she never came close to doing as she had no proof. She oft arrived to the specific room too late.

So that night, when she couldn’t take these noises anymore, she decided to burst the egg to her sister. Her sister – albeit she was a no nonsense person – always listened to her pleas and trusted her enough to do what she wished even though she sensed that it was only moonshine.

As they sat across each other in the dining hall, she drew a breath and stared at her food, unable to think of something appropriate to say about the matter – not that there was anything appropriate about it. She ended up poking at her food with a frown written all over her heart-shaped face.

With this demeanor, she earned a, _is everything all right?_

In which she replied with, _do you hear the howls and the scary grunts? I bet there’re monsters in the rooms around here_ , and fidgeted underneath the table, her face puce.

The queen froze and looked at her as if she had split her head in double. It was as if her sister had told her straight that she had probably lost her mind with all the singing and fantasizing she does. But it wasn’t what came out of her sister’s mouth; it was a meek _excuse me_ before the queen stood with a horrified look on her face and rushed gracefully out of the dining hall.

In the end, defeated, Anna barely ate her dinner as she stared at the tongue of the grandfather clock. _Bong bong bong_.

It was ten past ten when she finished the main course and decided she was done for tonight. With her spirits on the carpeted floor of the eerie castle, Anna dragged herself up the steps of the stairs without a spring in her step. She sighed, but her sigh was unheard. It was masked by the howls that had made her look like she had dementia.

The noises were louder this time, and she knew that it came from the halls on the west wing. She hurried, her feet thumping on the steps, determined to make her sister see that she wasn’t losing her mind. She heard a door slam shut and ran from where it came from, her chest heaving. The door was cautiously locked, all right, but she was damn lucky the door had a keyhole wide enough for her to poke one eye. With her breath caught in her throat, she slowly sunk to her knees in front of the door and positioned her right eye towards the hole.

All she could make out in the poorly lit room were two figures. These two figures didn’t have thick hair on their skin; instead they had thick hair stuck on their skulls. The other, who had its clothing pushed to its hips, had white-blonde hair, whilst the rogue one had a dark red. _Elsa and Hans_. She stifled a gasp as she watched him feed on her ivory skin like a vampire. She could make out the slope of her sister’s white breast as it gleamed underneath the candle’s futile flame. Her sister howled and she shivered as she watched what she least expected happened. Her sister grabbed a handful of his hair and used it as a tool to shove his face to that slope. It was weird to see his nose disappear into her sister’s lump of silk. When he groped the other lump and sucked on the other, she figured she could not stomach it anymore and left the two primates pleasure each other.

With a grimace on her face, she now knows where the howls came from.


	8. The Pawn

They were in that position once again, like thieves, stealing looks, hiding fascinated smiles, and looks of longing. She's engaged with the mountainous amount of paperwork she had left untouched in the duration of her anxiety attacks and the worry that stung her like a snake. Whilst he, the wayward prince of the Southern Isles, the unlucky thirteen, sat squarely adjacent to her desk, opening and reading the letters she had thrown aside. None bothered to utter a single word that concerned the previous incident. It was clear that Her Majesty was still inside her maddened cloud as the creases on her forehead were tattoos that cluttered her immaculate visage.

It wasn't that he was comparing Her Majesty to a dog, but ever since the door knob turned and the door almost gave away what they were doing, she had made it clear to everyone around her that she'd bite. He was always victim to her periodical mood swings and had often saw the flame that burned too bright behind her blue eyes. Often it had scared him as the threats she had screamed at him were laced with madness. It wasn't the madness that included every squeaking mattress or inch in the castle, but it was the type that prickled every hair a man had. It had pushed him far off the edge, and he wasn't worried about her powers at all, but what she could do to him if he'd be present during the erruption.

He was scared of the words she'd throw at him, knowing that these would unravel the emotions he had took time to hide behind his walls. He was tired of picking the bricks up and placing them back together with the knowledge of its next fatal disintegration. Ergo, he refused to move his pawn---the only thing that was left of him besides his king, afraid to get in her way and face the wrath she bottled up inside of her.

Her eyes twinkled as they tinged a shade darker, the lascivious flame in them was perspicuous---even a fool wouldn't fail to notice the sudden change in her demeanor. She bit her lip, refused to be persuaded by the yearning that was churning inside of her, and decided to wait. Impatiently, she tapped her foot on the wooden chair, her sweaty hand gripping the quill too hard. She knew she had to pick her fights.

She didn't want to seem as if she was a  _Jezebel_  in the dank streets, didn't want to draw a desperate card. She was a queen. A queen never scratches at the surface, never surrenders to her weaknesses. With matters like these---albeit how sordid and illicit---she should know how to approach them regally.

She stole a look through her lashes as she bit the inside of her cheek. She swallowed then, her saliva more like dust and rocks than liquid as she scolded at herself for being so asinine. What she did had only caused a turmoil inside of her stomach as she curled her toes and counted to ten. Fuck her for being so careless.

_One, two, three..._

Where was the phoenix of the situation? Where was the siren that lured the man to her?

_Four, five, six..._

Where were her cards when she needed them? Where was the powerful queen that stood dominantly in the plaques of black and white?

_Seven, eight, nine..._

Where was her self-control? Where were the daggers in her tongue? Most importantly, where was  _she_?

_Ten..._

"Lock the door," her voice was placid, but still she could hear the cracks in them, the fault lines her needs had caused.

He finally looked up from the letter he was sucked in on, the hint of confusion in his green eyes luculent. "I beg your pardon?" was his curt reply to her authoritative demand.

She rolled her eyes to the heavens, muttering a silent Nordic profanity. "You heard me well."

"Don't you think it's unwise for us to plunge into this sort of fandango?" he raised a knowing brow at her, ignoring the fact that she was his superior.

She countered him with an arch of her own, the disbelief etched on her pallor.

He sighed as he ran his hands through the mop of red atop his head. "Don't you remember the worry this affair had caused? You didn't bleed for a week! You locked yourself inside your room, housing your anxiety, afraid that you have made a shameful mistake!" He didn't know when he had grown the spine to oppugn Her Grace. All he knew was that he liked it and enjoyed how it had made her recoil for a mere second.

He tried to suppress a knowing smirk.

She slammed her cold fists on the desk, her temper rising in octaves as she stared at him with the darkest of blue eyes and the deepest of frowns. It was perspicuous that she didn't like the newly acquired spine he had grown over an hour.

The temperature fluctuated as she tried to place the lid back on. "I am the queen,  _you_  listen to  **me**." She knew she was pulling at desperate cards and knew it as costing her. But what this would result to---if she'd be successful---was worth every penny.

He sighed heavily as he continued to run his hand through his thick hair. "I can't get through  _that_  again. I can't  _stand_  seeing you like that."

It only took a snap of a finger for his walls to collapse again.

Her frown easily deviated to a smirk as she neared him with a new leverage. "I see you have let your emotions get through you." She muttered, the sarcasm and amusement lasing on each word. "I thought you weren't capable of feeling such juvenile emotions." She arched a brow as she brushed her fingers on his neck.

He tensed at that whilst she revelled on the power she had over him. "I'm not." He stated through gritted teeth, desperately grasping at the powdered bricks.

Her smirk turned into an ear splitting grin as she gave him a once-over. She bit her lip as she circled him like a vulture to a wounded fox.

He was truly transparent. With one look, she could see that he was trying to rebuild his frivolous barricades. She was suppressing the laughter that effervescently bounced inside her throat, finding humor in his distress.

"Then it'd be no trouble if you locked the door and showed me how much of a man you are." She stated as she peeled off her dress and beckoned to the busy desk. "I'm sure you'd be glad to do so."

It was unfortuante for the pawn to end up in such a  _cruel_ **fate.**


End file.
